Private Dancer
by MrsLJG5
Summary: Jethro Gibbs and Suzanne McNamara are dating. There are many wonderful secrets about Suzanne that Gibbs discovers during their courtship. In this short story, Suzanne's hidden talent is so surprising that it convinces him to make an exception to one of Gibbs' Rules. Suzanne McNamara is an original character playing with established NCIS characters. Thank you CBS Productions!
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note: Suzanne McNamara is a woman of many qualities and mysteries. Her life outside NCIS only fuels Special Agent Jethro Gibbs' intrigue, interests in the graduate student. Will she become the catalyst for Gibbs to finally disregard Rule 12—Never date a coworker-once and for all? _**

**_The inspiration for the story comes from the Tina Turner song, Private Dancer and mentions a line-"Tell Me, You wanna see me do the shimmy again?" The music lyrics are from Celia Cruz-Azucar Negra. Gracias, La Reina! Both singers and songwriters are solely for the reader to envision the music to the movement of dance. No intention for infringement. It is purely for artistic and aesthetic purposes. _**

The community dance troupe comprised of people from late teens to mid and upper 30's, various heights and builds but advanced in the world of dance. After all, the door agenda said "Advanced/Technique III and IV: 5:30-7:00."

He remembered from conversations with Leon Vance and Tobias Fornell their daughters recently auditioned and were selected for the Greater Washington Dance Troupe. It was a stepping stone to the Washington Ballet Company. Same organization but the senior group. The Youngers were in the Advanced I—the Corps. They met twice a week-Monday afternoons and Saturday Mornings.

"We're starting quarter-after, Doctor." A classmate informed him. "The troupe's rehearsing for a show Friday evening."

"No worries." He peeped through the small window, noticed students rehearsing barre work with the director, also an associate with the same national dance company, slowly counting beats for warm ups. Once a dancer, small in statue, still in dance shape, Director Lemmon demonstrated and demanded perfection, especially from IV's.

_"Plie, Plie, grande…"_ He repeated the words verbatim. It was rote instruction. He could repeat the sequence in sleep.

_"Open fourth…"_ The dancers followed orders, with synchronized hand claps, into the dance alignment. The music tempo increased, meaning the director wanted increased movement. The counts were louder, faster.

_"5-6-7-8…hold—3-4-5-6-7-8…"_ The soft melody continued.

The director checked everyone's alignment. Her dance class met before his senior exercise class. They stood by height, and Dr. Donald Mallard, Ducky to his associates, stumbled across Suzanne McNamara's hidden talent by coincidence. As usual, Suzanne was the tallest female but second shortest of the much taller males.

**_"I didn't know she was in the Dance Troupe…"_**

She kept pace with the others best as she could, if not better, with the wrapped knee. Her appearance was of a dancer—pulled hair, basic workout leggings with shorts, over-sized t-shirt and half-sole dance shoes. One glaring difference Ducky noticed: her frame was much smaller and very muscular. Her work uniform concealed her curves. Suzanne was about 25 lbs lighter.

_"Focus, people!"_ The director yelled. He continued the walk around, evaluating and reevaluating the overall body of work. He stopped at Suzanne, watched briefly. It was a gentle push. "Fours: you've been dancing your whole lives!"

_"Work the muscle…"_ Suzanne groaned softly as he extended the stretch. _"And hold—3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…"_ He walked to the front. Ducky continued to watch from the door.

_"No pain, no gain: right, McNamara?"_

"Yes, Director." She grunted.

* * *

There were two simple reasons as to why Suzanne McNamara danced: therapeutic necessity and familiarity. She ran cross-country in both high school and college, sustained injuries to her right knee. The stretching and conditioning from modern dance allowed a full-body workout, regaining enough mobility to eke a 3 mile a week jog. Suzanne's parents pushed their only daughter into dance classes as a confidence builder. She learned early "prima ballerina" was not in the future; the teachers, however, encouraged Suzanne to continue classes, all agreeing in formative years a confident, coordinated, focused and talented modern dance student.

"Let's rehearse the second movement… to the bridge." The director called. Suzanne and several others gathered at the middle. "I'm still deciding who'll dance the solo on Friday from the Primary and Secondary."

"You'll dance the solo." Corrinne whispered. "It's your turn."

"I'm too tall…" Suzanne replied, stretching side to side. "It's your turn, Kid."

The others chatted excitedly, and she merely listened, chuckled at the comments. Corey, her preferred nickname, was 18 years old and attended the local community college. She was new to the area, also a military dependent, and gravitated to Suzanne as did Kayla and Emily when all met for weekly rehearsal. The two often worked together, Suzanne remembering Corey as a junior dancer in the Corps.

The music played. The dancers moved about on the floor, followed their routines to the letter.

"Nice..." The director complimented. He moved to where Suzanne was positioned, adjusted her posture.

"Not too much of a curve...you're tall!" He smiled, pulled her aside.

"Keep in mind with the beat—it's a fast 4 beat afterwards." Suzanne nodded and resumed the dance. He counted back from 8, and his voice grew with intensity. Soon the entire cast joined in harmony. Each section executed their choreography.

"Told you." Corrinne smiled, briefly looked at her partner and winked. Suzanne laughed softly, continued to focus on the routine.

"Faster, Seconds! 5-6-7-8…"

"Let me loosen up your collar…tell me…do you want to me see me do the shimmy again!?—Oh…" Suzanne sang loudly with the movement, body movement with the collapse into her partner's arms perfectly synced.

The director interrupted, turned off the music.

"Come here!" He tapped the yardstick, motioning Suzanne to come front and center. Suzanne removed her classes during technique class, limiting her vision to blurred, strained nearsightedness. She squinted, trying to make out the hand gesture.

"Yes, you, McNamara!"

Others giggled as Suzanne followed his directive. The director walked around her, looked in her eyes.

"It is called Corps de Ballet for a reason!"

Ducky still had several minutes before his class. He walked quietly inside the studio, observing near the exits.

"Don't sing the song! I could hear you singing it in the formation!" Suzanne blushed.

"Yes, sir." She answered softly.

"Also, you exaggerated the last eight beats…" The director pointed to the male dancer, a few inches taller than Suzanne and motioned for him to come join the two. He was 6'6 to Suzanne's even 6 feet.

"Carl…you and Suzanne at my count." He pushed the two close. "I want you two to dance the solo." Others laughed. Suzanne looked uncomfortable. Because of height, the two were usually dance partners—nothing more. They were good friends.

"Shoes?" Suzanne asked.

"Those half-soles are fine." The director suggested. Quickly, she tightened the flat shoes, resumed the stance. "I want to see the coordination first."

The director restarted the music.

"24 bars in…extended…get ready…"

The two began with traditional steps—merely walking around another. Once the guitar screeched distinct tones, the dance broke off into sensuality. She did the prerequisite glissades. The way Carl grasped, twirled Suzanne toward him...that dramatic stare in each other's eyes. It was believable. She followed the choreography to the director's instruction, added an extra step or deleted two for rhythmic purposes. At the solo's height, she perfectly timed the pirouettes. The instrumental ended and chorus resumed with Suzanne's arabesque, sensually draping around Carl.

"Beautiful, Suzanne…" Ducky whispered.

The troupe clapped, whistled at their performance. It was believable. The elements for dance and entertainment were present. Suzanne and Carl remained in position, eventually parting, awaiting the verdict from the director.

"You two are the featured dancers Friday evening." The director announced.

One performer dared to ask why, as she was generally selected for featured solos. Others groaned, while the director, chuckling, provided an answer.

"The scene is more about emotion than technique." The director said.

"If Jasmine wants to perform…" Suzanne's eyes shifted, a sign of confusion and some insecurity.

"Stay right here." The director ordered Suzanne. He continued with the overconfident prima donna.

"Three years, Suzanne has been in the troupe, hasn't complained one time, never asked or auditioned for primary though she's just as talented. But if you really want to know, Jasmine, why I chose her over you, her technique is original, sharp with the right emphasis."

The others whispered, grinned and chortled. Corey flashed a thumbs-up sign.

"Now, we have rehearsal Friday afternoon, 5 o'clock..." The director glanced at the clock, the next group of participants casually walking inside. "For the main performance—black and white, please?"

The group parted in different directions.

"Advance IV…" The director said. "See you Thursday for Technique."

"I have class Thursday evening, Director." Suzanne answered, slipping on sweatpants. "I'll come to practice tomorrow evening with Advance II."

The director sighed. "5:30 tomorrow evening. Be warmed up, McNamara." She looked upward. He grinned, then patted her on the head. "Be sure to ice your knees if you're going to run."

* * *

"Suzanne? Full lyrical dress, okay?" The director reminded within earshot.

Other members of the troupe congratulated her as they packed and left from the studio.

"Make sure it has black or white in it...okay?" Suzanne nodded. She understood the dress code—glitter black with heeled shoes . Lemmon knew of her simplistic tastes with wardrobe selections. For the one evening, in her finest hour, the director wanted Suzanne to wear her knee-length black or white asymmetric lyrical dress. It was her choice, though the entire company were aware her preferred color was grey.

"I thought my knee was about to give out!" She laughed with Carl, packing her duffle bag.

"You need to stop running five miles..." Carl playfully tapped her right then left shoulder.

"Private Dancer." Ducky whispered. "How fitting!"

"Dr. Mallard…" Suzanne stuttered. The butterfly soon wrapped in the protective cocoon. Within seconds, the glasses were on and her head tilted towards the floor. Nervously, she laughed.

"I…I didn't know you were here."

"My class is after yours." He answered. "And I didn't know you were such a marvelous dancer!" Ducky chuckled. "So are you, young man!"

"Dr. Mallard: Carl Baker. I work with Dr. Mallard. Carl and I dance together." The men exchanged pleasantries.

"How much did you see?" Suzanne asked.

"You wanna see me do the Shimmy again?!" Ducky sang.

"I'll see you Friday, Suzanne…" Carl waved. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."

"I have a few minutes before my class begins…" Ducky said. He motioned for an open spot. Moments passed by, the two smiled, Ducky patiently waited for a response. Ducky readied for his exercise group.

"I've been dancing in the Troupe about three years." Suzanne said. "I auditioned when I first moved to DC, offered a Corps part. This is my second year in the Principal group. Last year, I did a demi-solo. This is my first time as a Principal in the Production." She continued the cooling down process.

"I practiced either Mondays or Tuesdays with II or III; I made IV this year, so I need to make a few IV technique classes. Anyway…Fornell and Vance's daughters just made Troupe this year as Corps dancers."

"So…you dance in how many numbers Friday evening?" Ducky asked.

"I'm in three numbers as a demi, first, and a principal." Suzanne completed packing her gear. She breathed deeply. "Thankfully, there's a break between the sets!"

"Oh, we'll be here, cheering you on…"

"Dr. Mallard…" Suzanne's voice tensed. "I…no one knows about the dance thing, except the girls. They promised to keep it a secret. I'm not that good of a dancer."

"Tell you what…we'll keep them all in suspense until Friday, shall we?" Ducky had a gleam in his eye.

"I understand you and Jethro have been seeing each other socially?"

Suzanne declined to answer. She smiled slightly, glanced at the dance floor.

"Jethro said you're very shy outside of work, Susie, yet, you are so confident when you dance..."

"I've been taking dance lessons since the age of six." She answered. "Even though we moved a lot, three consistencies in my life: dance, art, and Scouting. My parents always found a dance studio and a Scout troop whenever we lived."

"Good evening, Golden Oldies..." The director returned to the studio.

"God, I hate it when he says that!" Ducky muttered. "Guess that's my cue..."

"Director Lemmon may take it easy on your group this evening..." Suzanne smiled. "Meanwhile, I'm going back home to ice my knee."

"Suzanne?"

"Sir?"

"Do you want two more hours of technique?"

* * *

Leon and Tobias were proud of their girls for simply making the dancer troupe and brought them roses to present backstage. When Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs agreed to an evening with the Greater Washington Dance Troupe, it was to support the girls. He, too, bought roses. Ducky suggested to hold onto his dozen for the Prima for it was customary.

Gibbs arrived late. 'Case-related.' Gibbs cited as he slid into the open seat with the gentlemen.

"I thought Suz would be here."

"You're in time for the last number with the Prima, Uncle Gibbs." Emily replied. "I'll be back." She scurried toward the exit, flashed an okay sign to the director.

_"Normally, the Troupe performs the last number together, but instead, we have our lead, representing Advanced IV ending our presentation…" The director reminisced about the idea, a _free-spirited ensemble piece. He explained the universal message of tonight's message-Gifts from the Soul. The task was to select a very eclectic mix of music and dance. Suzanne was a fan of Celia Cruz, the Queen of Salsa, La Reina-the Queen. **_Regalo del Alma—A Gift from the Soul_**. When she approached Lemmon with an idea on Celia Cruz, the director's voice encouraged and green lighted the project.

**_"Element of surprise, McNamara…go outside your box." _**

_"Finally, we are delighted-I'm tickled to present a Gift from the Soul— our Regalo del Alma." _

"Come on, Mackie!" A classmate shouted. "You're up...again."

"Oh, I can't do this!" Suzanne replied.

"You look fine!" The other convinced.

Reluctantly, Suzanne walked onto center stage. The lights were dimmed; only silhouettes were shown behind the curtain. The male classmates whistled. She looked the same, except heavier makeup. The sheer skirt was thigh-length and flowing with many layers. It complemented the animal print leotard, free flowing braided brown hair, black tights and heeled dance shoes.

"Fast 4 Count, Suzanne." The director reminded, hands on her shoulders. "And you can sing your heart out!"

The bright stage light shined; Suzanne, posed, blinking furiously, ignoring the audience, waited for the music to begin.

"Oh, damn!" Gibbs whispered.

Ducky grinned. Tobias' eyes bulged. Leon, backstage with Kayla, smiled with pride. Tobias and Gibbs' mouths were opened in disbelief.

"She's in the Advanced Troupe." Ducky answered, sitting between the two. "I didn't know until Wednesday." Ducky laughed. "I certainly didn't know about **_this _**_solo_!"

Suzanne began alone, a solitary spotlight to showcase her impressive movement to_ Azucar Negra_, Spanish for "Brown Sugar." The beginning elements were floor work, just her with the Caribbean sounds of the steel drum and the vocals.

_oy dulce como el melao'  
Alegre como el tambor  
Llevo el ritmico tumbao'  
Llevo el ritmico tumbao'  
Que hace que en el corazon_

I'm sweet like molasses  
_Joyful as the drum  
I bring the tumbao rhythm  
I bring the tumbao rhythm  
That makes in the heart_

"Expression, Suzanne…" The director reminded from stage left.

_Y habia una isla rica  
Eclava de una sonrisa  
Soy de ayer soy carnaval  
Pongo corazon y tierra  
Mi sangre es de azucar negra  
Es amor y es musica_

_And there was a rich island  
Slave of a smile  
I'm from yesterday, I'm carnival  
I put heart and earth  
My blood is of black sugar  
It is love and music  
_  
Suzanne adjusted her body posture—noticeable difference. The turns were cleaner, movement in perfect harmony with the instruments. Her skirt spun in time with her body. That long leg kicked, extended out in a languish, playful quickstep. She simply expressed joy. Suzanne's concentration continued. The extensive artistry came into play, tapping each bar with the yardstick. Cubana salsa, the solo cha cha slide—very, very sultry.

In the performance, she smiled at the audience, rolled her eyes in delight and quickly turned. The response was laughter.

"Quick turn! Good…"

_*Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra  
Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra  
Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra  
Aucar azucar negra hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra_

"Sing it, Suzanne! Azucar!"

The horn intermission allowed further feedback.

"She's a good dancer!" Tobias complimented.

"Yeah…" Gibbs, with curiosity, looked on. The fabric complimented each curve. It naturally flowed. The hips swayed along the cowbell, her hands interlocked across her hair and a sensual smile crossed her face. It was a side of Suzanne she rarely shared. Gibbs couldn't help but to smile with pride.

_How can she dance in those shoes? Gibbs thought. _

Playfully, she danced around, close, near the male dancers. With every step, they followed.

"Longer spin…side move…there you go…" The director smiled. The audience members clapped in a steady rhythm.

_Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra  
Yo soy la candela candela y mi cadelai' candela  
Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra  
Azucar azucar negra  
Como me gusta y como me alegra  
(azucar)  
Azucar azucar negra  
Hay cuanto me gusta y me alegra_

"Azucar, Azucar Negra!" Suzanne's last pose—two men holding her feet, one embracing her from behind-flawless.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: There is a portion of the song "You Are My Friend" originally recorded by Patti Labelle and Sylvester James in the following story for the emphasis of the story-trust and friendship. Suzanne and Gibbs are at the beginning stages of dating. The two are learning of one another and taking things slow. The following is after Suzanne's performance at the post-performance gala.**

* * *

The company mingled with other guests soon after the performance. Director Lemmon received high praises for the show, the guests wanted to meet his 'star' of the last performance. Several minutes, he thanked the people, excused himself to another part of the floor but promised to find his protégé. He spotted the younger members of the Corps.

"Where's McNamara?" He whispered to Kayla and Emily, sharing happier occasions with Vance, Tobias, Gibbs, and Ducky. Gibbs patiently waited for Suzanne, heard the urgency of the dancer director's request. The doctor explained Suzanne's whereabouts—more than likely 'hiding out in the studio' in Jethro's ear.

"She had three, four costume changes tonight…probably packing her gear." Vance answered. He and Fornell formally introduced Gibbs to the Director of the Troupe as the Supervisory Agent of NCIS.

"He's an uncle to our girls." Tobias said.

"Director, I can get Suzanne for you." Gibbs suggested. "I see you have your hands full."

"You know McNamara?"

"Suzanne is an employee—craft services." Ducky clarified with a small chuckle. "It surprised us all she was a part of tonight's production."

"She's reluctant about discussing her personal life." The director said, excusing himself and nudging Gibbs to follow along.

"Mac's been with us three years. Fantastic performer! All I know is that she works and attends classes at night." Gibbs and Director Lemmon continued circulating in the crowd. "Last year, she earned a spot in the Washington Dance Theatre; she declined."

"She's in her last year of graduate school." Gibbs said. "She wants to finish that degree."

"Let her know she has 10 minutes." Lemmon explained in detail the studio and its dressing halls.

"I'm certain everyone's out, except for McNamara…tell her to get her butt out here!"

* * *

Three sharp raps, and Gibbs slowly opened the door.

"Hi, Suz."

Suzanne was alone, still nervous about entering the lobby. Her legs trembled underneath the table as she glanced in the mirror once more. The hair was pinned, the braids back into the signature bun, she slipped on her glasses. The sheer dance shirt was off; instead was a long black skirt. The striped leotard, tights remained on and covered with a red wrapped sweater. Instead of the heeled dressed dance shoes, she preferred the standard pointe shoes.

"Hi." Suzanne whispered.

"Hi. Your director said 10 minutes 5 minutes ago. Are you ready?"

Gibbs noticed her packed dance bag sitting by the doorway.

"Umm…Duck told me it is customary…to give roses to the Prima." Jethro presented a bouquet of yellow roses.

"Thank you." Suzanne smiled. "They're beautiful."

"They'll compliment that huge bouquet waiting for you." Jethro sat beside her. "It's from the company."

Suzanne's sigh grew heavier.

"Everyone's waiting for you."

"Obviously…I've been stalling." She chuckled. "I've never been so nervous in my entire life."

"Is it customary someone accompanies the lead dancer to the reception?" He smiled.

"I usually leave right after the performance!"

"You mind if I accompany you this evening, Suz?"

"Not at all…" She smiled. "Thank you."

"I promise…I'll be near you."

Gibbs offered his right hand, helping her from the seat. With one hand, he draped Suzanne's canvas duffel bag on a shoulder. The other, he gently wrapped around Suzanne's waist. The two walked toward the reception area. Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was a man of his word. Throughout the mixer, he remained nearby. Suzanne politely, shyly downplayed her performance. She attributed the success of the show to colleagues, to Director's Lemmon's choreography. For nearly an hour, she answered, posed for pictures, and spoke to patrons.

"How about dinner?" Gibbs suggested.

"Kinda of late for dinner." Suzanne smiled.

"Dessert and coffee?"

"Okay." Suzanne nodded.

"Then, I can ask you a few questions of my own, Miss McNamara…off record." Gibbs smiled.

* * *

Gibbs followed Suzanne to her Atlas area home to park 'Old Faithful,' his nickname for her 1988 jeep. She asked for a mere 10 minutes to drop off her belongings and place the bouquet of flowers in vases. Of course, she allowed Gibbs to come inside the home. He visited twice. The first time: he kissed Suzanne and asked her for a date. After five years of knowing one another-the glances, the smiles-he finally asked, with Ducky's urging. She agreed to one date at his home. It was a lovely date, their steak dinner and evening by the fire. One date turned into another. Soon, the two agreed to a once-a-week date.

"I've never had so many flowers in my life!" She laughed as she searched the cabinets for possible vases. "What I should do is give these to Emily and Kayla."

"Trust me, we bought enough flowers for them!" Gibbs chuckled. He noticed an unused gallon pitcher. He reached, nudged Suzanne on the side as a suggestion to use the alternative.

"I'll buy you a new pitcher at Bulls-eye or Yellow Star…" He prepared the flowers as Suzanne dropped her dance bag into the laundry room. She watched for a moment, how Gibbs gently cropped the ends diagonally and arranged the flowers by different colors. Suzanne returned inside the kitchen and noticed Gibbs placing four tablets inside the pitcher.

"Aspirin…keeps the flowers fresh." He replied.

"Thank you."

The two stood face to face. Suzanne glanced at the floor. Her eyes moved everywhere, avoiding Jethro's glance.

"If you want to reschedule dessert and coffee for another time…" Suzanne glanced at the clock, noticing it was after midnight. "I understand…I have coffee and bought a really good apple pie at Bulls-eye Wednesday afternoon…we can have some dessert right here…" She reached in the cabinet for the coffee and two coffee cups, when Gibbs' hand wrapped her wrist.

"Why didn't you mention the Troupe?" He looked squarely into her eyes.

Suzanne shrugged her shoulders. Again, Gibbs repeated the question.

"You didn't ask!"

"You are a professional dancer?! So good, according to Lemmon, that you turned down a position with the National Company?!" Gibbs raised his voice with anger. "You didn't trust me, Suz! You don't trust anyone!"

"Like you trust **_anyone_**, Gibbs!" Gibbs clicked his tongue, tilted his head slightly to indicate that she did, indeed, make a valid point. The strong grasp Gibbs had on her right wrist grew stronger. She grunted, struggled to free from his hold.

"That's right. You keep secrets too." She whispered, massaging her wrist with her free hand. Suzanne was shocked, but not as Gibbs at her response. Her voice, generally soft, grew aggressive.

"You have one hell of a nerve reading a riot act on secrecy, on selective mutism." A single tear fell across her cheek. "One thing you're not going to do in my house…is interrogate me." Suzanne sighed, walked into the living room and opened her front door.

"Get out."

"Suzanne-"

She nodded her head. "No. You need to leave, Gibbs."

He closed the front door, readjusted the deadbolt and stood against the door.

"Come here." Gibbs wiped the tear from her cheek. Their foreheads rested against another and a small smile crossed Suzanne's face. His hands gently caressed the nape of her neck.

"I'm sorry, Susie."

For Gibbs to say those two words, the ones indicating a sign of weakness, meant a great deal to Suzanne. She, in turn, uttered the same to Gibbs in his ear.

"I assumed you'd laugh if I told you I like to dance." Suzanne admitted. "You'd think I'm that type of girl."

"You know what I say about assumptions….never assume." Jethro reminded. She nodded in agreement.

"I'd still like to dance with you, Suzanne." Jethro asked.

"Well…" Suzanne reached for the remote for her music channel. A ballad played.

"Perfect." Jethro held Suzanne's waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck. The song described their complex relationship—friends but more than a friendship. They cared for another, and yet, their casual 'dating' seemed to indicate something more.

_You're my, my friend  
I never knew it 'til then  
My friend  
I feel your love,  
When you're not near  
It helps me make it knowing you care_

The thought of you helps me carry on  
When I feel all hope is gone  
I see the world with brand new eyes  
Your love has made me realize  
My future looks bright to me,  
Oh because you are my friend  
Da, da, da, da

Suzanne and Gibbs glanced at each other. The moonlight highlighted each other's best features—her expressive brown eyes and his steel blue eyes.

"Suz…" Gibbs whispered. "You had me all the time."

Gibbs leaned in slowly, tilted his head to kiss her briefly. She blinked and smiled. Gibbs kissed Suzanne once again, wrapping her closely in his arms.

_I've been looking around and you were here all the time.  
Da, da, da  
I've been around and around and around and around  
Da, da, da  
I've been looking around and you were here all the time_

_I've been…looking around…_

_Da, da da  
Ooh, you know what I've been doing and I had you all the time…_

"Thank you for the dance."

Suzanne smiled.

Gibbs opened the door, briefly kissed Suzanne on the lips once more. In his lapel pocket was an additional yellow and white rose, a duo in its own water. He presented it to Suzanne, placing a finger on her plump lip and smiled.

"I'll call you tomorrow afternoon."

Suzanne opened the small card, reading Gibbs' impeccably neat manuscript:

_"A new beginning, a new friendship, and a new admirer. G." _


	3. Chapter 3

**_Epilogue_**

**_Author's Note: I thought it was appropriate to end the story on a nice, romantic tone regarding trust and secrets. The following is basically 'we need to be open with one another/discovery...' ending. They decide they're more than just friends. _**

* * *

"I'd like to know more about you, Susie..."

Supervisory Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs seemed surprised to learn about Suzanne's dancing abilities. During the weekend, he concluded that it was now refreshing to have nicer surprises to learn. Their usual Sunday date was Chinese take-out from Capitol Hill. It was a specific spot Suzanne preferred. The prices were reasonable. The people were friendly. Most of all, it was very quaint and family-oriented, which enticed her as a regular customer.

"It is okay for me to call you Susie?" He asked.

"Maybe..." She smiled. "Only my family and Dr. Mallard calls me Susie."

Usually, she picked up the food and Gibbs met her at the house. Instead, he wanted to walk with her to the restaurant.

"It's nicer to learn more about you instead of peeping through personnel files…"

Suzanne laughed.

"I admit: I keep my guard up." Suzanne said. "Since you seem truly interested in me...I'll open up with you..._slowly_."

"That would be nice." Gibbs said upon entering the restaurant. He held the door open for Suzanne.

_Xǐ. Nǐ hǎo ma? _The soft bell chimes tied to the door alerted the personnel.

_Very good, thank you, Suzanna. _

"I'm one of the few who speak Chinese upon entering the restaurant."

The owners, an elderly husband and wife, hugged Suzanne.

"Good to see you." The only words she said in English to the couple.

"Who is this, Suzanna?"

"This is my friend, Gibbs."

Gibbs gave a firm handshake to the gentleman.

"She is…how do you say in English…a very good person."

"She is a very lovely person." Gibbs smiled, nodded in agreement.

"Suzanna speaks in Chinese; we speak in English." The couple spoke to Gibbs while she peeped on the school-aged children, speaking both languages.

"She speaks very good Chinese." The wife complimented. "She's helped us…understand legal documents."

"What would you like to eat, Suzanna?" The man asked.

_Tōngcháng de ma? _Suzanne's usual was Chicken and steamed broccoli.

Iced tea or water?

_Táng de chá ma. _Suzanne willingly shared her grandmother's sweetened iced tea recipe to the couple. It became more popular than the carbonized drinks in the restaurant.

"How do you say 'Hunan Steak' in Chinese and coffee in Chinese, Suz?"

_Duì tā lái shuō, húnán niúpái hé Kāfēi hǎo ma? _Suzanne easily answered, her finger indicating Gibbs.

"The 'ma' ending to a sentence is very polite." Suzanne added. "It is an address for 'please?'"

"It shows she has very good manners."

_Fēicháng gǎnxiè._

"Thank you very much." Gibbs said. Suzanne nodded.

The wife and Suzanne spoke briefly and quickly in simplified Chinese.

_-Tā shì nǐ de nán péngyǒu ma?_

_"__Zhǐshì péngyǒu."_ Suzanne smiled.

_-Tā fēicháng yīngjùn. Nǐmen liǎng gè zuò piàoliang de háizi zài yīqǐ._

_"__Hái méi." Suzanne replied. _

_-Gěi wǒ yīgè hūnlǐ de yāoqǐng!_

The two women laughed. She touched Suzanne on the shoulder and hurried into the kitchen.

"It's just _coincidence_ you know Chinese?" Gibbs grinned.

"My dad was a translator." Suzanne answered. "By the time I was four, five years old, I knew-**hanzi-**_written_ Chinese just as well as English." Gibbs chuckled at the nervous rambling. "Tone is everything when speaking the language." Gibbs laughed in disbelief at first.

"You asked! I told you the truth!"

"Didn't know you spoke Chinese."

"You never asked, Gibbs." Suzanne wagged her finger, smiled.

"Let me guess…" Gibbs peered through his glasses. "You were just talking about me…"

"And what if we were?" Suzanne smiled.

"What did she say?" He leaned in closer.

"That you're good-looking…"

"**You** are beautiful…" Gibbs inched closer. Suzanne chuckled. Gibbs took hold of her hand, stroked the top gently.

"She asked if we were serious."

"I'd like to know that answer, Susie." They stood in the corner. Suzanne leaned inside the crevice, her personal retreat. She shrugged the shoulder, shifted her eyes downward, and bashfully smiled.

"What did you say?" Gibbs tilted her chin upward. Their eyes met. Gibbs removed Suzanne's glasses, stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Gibbs..." Suzanne sighed. "I said we're just friends."

"Yeah?" Gibbs trapped her in the corner. Too late to squirm from the space, despite the lack of trying. He leaned in, tilted to the right to kiss her. His tongue tipped inside her lip; Suzanne's reaction was to open wider, kiss back. In the long kiss, she exhaled a soft moan. Momentarily, the two forgot time and space. It was in the restaurant, waiting for Sunday dinner in public, and temporarily enjoying a moment with a date. The elder couple watched, even winked at Suzanne after the intimate moment.

"We're more than just friends, _Suzanne?_" He repeated.

"Anything more, Suzanna?" The gentleman asked, tapping on the counter, indicating their order was complete.

Suzanne's eyes were fixed in Jethro's, her head nodding in agreement, decision fixed as to whether or not pursue her interest in Jethro Gibbs. "I'm ready."


End file.
